Watershed
by ElairaHunter
Summary: Seto Kaiba, cold, ruthless, unfeeling? Perhaps not. A look at one of the defining moments of his life. PG for being miserable. R


Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh! There, happy now?  
  
Author's Note: I know many of you out there hate Seto Kaiba. No doubt you have your reasons. However if you wish to flame this piece of prose please let it be because of the writing quality and not the because of the subject. Include clear and succinct reasons for your dislike as well as ideas for improvement.  
  
This is a short piece intending to highlight one of the pivotal (defining) moments of change in Seto's life- known as a watershed – and, perhaps, offer a few reasons for his abject apathy towards the world and all in it (save Mokuba, of course). It is written from his perspective and contains thoughts he would most likely never express to himself, let alone the world. Please read and review.  
  
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Trampled beneath the spiked heels of fate's cruel humor, my watershed was a revelation as deep as the ocean itself, revelation that hope- that pathetic and malicious spirit- existed only to taunt, to keep the mind subjugated to pointless fantasy. When you give up hope you free yourself from the shackles of dependence and open your eyes to the putrid wasteland that is life.  
  
I held his trembling hand in mine as our life changed forever that day, his tiny frame shacking with the tears I couldn't shed, with the fear I suppressed for his sake alone. Within the crypt of my mind I raged against them for leaving the world behind, leaving us to the everlasting loneliness of the living while they lay in the peaceful slumber of death. Orphan. The bitter taste of the word stained my lips and I longed to scream, to scream until the tide of hatred that welled inside me ebbed into nothingness-or engulfed me whole into its maelstrom of insanity. Even as my thoughts welcomed the emotionless void of despair, his was the hand that kept me fastened to reality.  
  
I couldn't be like them, wouldn't die while he yet lived, and wouldn't leave as they had left. Why? I questioned myself but the answer was clear even as the question was posed. Because he needed me, because to be needed and to meet that need is to have the purpose without which life is less than death.  
  
All through the long empty journey I refused to shed my bitter tears, refused to give voice to my grief. It had no place in my life. Even when I saw the looming stone walls of the orphanage, the pitying glances of its keeper, I refused to speak lest with my faltering words I released the torrents of my emotions.  
  
My brother, so young, so innocent, his fragile spirit remembered with love the memory of the parents who had given us life. Even as I railed inside at their abandonment, I suppressed my voice. I knew, even then, that I must let him preserve the false memory of their love, keep it untainted by bitterness. Otherwise I knew that his innocent belief in life would fracture the way mine had. It would be better for him to be disillusioned now but I couldn't let him lose his trust in others lest he lost his trust in me. It was enough that one of us relinquished childhood. While I lived I would protect him, he was all I had left and I vowed that I would be all that he needed.  
  
So I whispered words of comfort, empty lies to sooth him as we were ushered into the empty corridors that stretched towards our empty future.  
  
My pent up emotions couldn't be released even in the darkness. The solitude I craved would not be found in a crowded dorm.  
  
So I turned my unshed tears into the catalyst for my metamorphosis. Like cold steel is strengthened by fire, I used my raw anger to burn away the weak emotions of my lost youth to reforge myself. No longer would I be pushed and pulled like a helpless puppet, directed, manipulated and mocked by fate. I would bring my life, my world, my destiny into my own control.  
  
I aged that day, traded naivety for knowledge and banished that traitor hope to the shadows of my former existence.  
  
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Author's Notes: For those of you into semantics and minute details the following admissions:  
  
My work is based on the episodes aired in Britain as I have not had the privilege of viewing other versions.  
  
I know in the anime it states that their parents 'disappeared' not died but I hardly think Seto Kaiba will be waiting on their return. As far as he's concerned, they are dead.  
  
This is before Gozoburu comes in to their lives and maybe is why Seto blackmailed him the way he did.  
  
He never admits to having human emotions but I am sure he does feel some as otherwise he would not have been capable of loving Mokuba (if you deny that he loves Mokuba then you've been watching the wrong anime).  
  
Everything he's ever done has in part been to ensure that Mokuba has a future.  
  
Yes, I know he's power-hungry but that partly because if he's the one with the power then it can't be used against him.  
  
The feelings written about in this fic are a glimpse into Seto's past emotions from a later point in his life. This is not written from the perspective of a young Seto Kaiba.  
  
I refer to 'need' in the fic, Seto Kaiba has stated in the anime-"I have all that I need". Think Pegasus tournament and Tea's everlasting rants on friendship (that one was a good speech though).  
  
Mokuba only hates those people who try to hurt his brother; otherwise he does generally care for everyone he comes across.  
  
Mokuba did complain (in Noa's Virtual World) about Seto's 'pep talk' but from Seto's perspective telling Mokuba not to expect anyone else to ever help them again is giving words of comfort, at least he'll still be there.  
  
You know Seto Kaiba hates fate and destiny.  
  
I can't think of any more at the moment so I'll stop here. 


End file.
